With the cold climate that we exchanged for a warmer as we again approached the equator, we lost sight of the countless flocks of sea-birds that so long had accompanied 185 us. It is something remarkable that they only inhabit the colder latitudes, for in a warmer climate it is a rare thing to find them. Sometimes a few weary land-birds that have strayed from their homeward way, skim over the ocean, or rest upon the masts; how they maintain themselves on the wing cannot be conjectured, but certain it is, they have been seen on the trackless ocean, when no point of land was within hundreds of miles.
On the first day of December, a long range of blue hills rose on the far horizon as if springing from the sea; we soon found it to be the coast of Sumatra. Contrary winds kept us beating about and prevented our entering the straits of Sunda, but we found ourselves surrounded by a number of ships from all nations sharing a like fate, and waiting with the same impatience for a favoring wind to blow them into Sunda Roads or to their different destinations. At last the wished for breeze sprung up, the sails swelled, and our gallant ship sailed proudly through the straits. On all sides were seen chains of blue hills and richly wooded islands rising out of the water; the long coast of Java and Sumatra covered with vegetation and groups of beautiful trees, and the thousand little green islets that studded the straits like emeralds cast at random, presented a lively picture that contrasted pleasantly with the late monotony we had endured. Huge trunks of pistangs and tops of cocoanut trees, broken off by the wind were driven about in all directions, and as they met us, awakened almost as much apprehension as would a reef of rocks. We passed many islands uninhabited, and with their impervious forests still remaining in primitive wildness, clothed in the 186 beauty of a perpetual verdure unknown in northern regions, and soon came in sight of the white houses of the island of Java, which surrounded with lofty trees and blooming gardens, proclaimed themselves the dwellings of Europeans. From many eminences the Dutch flag was seen floating, and as we sailed along, a Java village looked out from among the tall cocoanut trees; little barks shot out from the shore and steered towards our ship, and one European boat manned with eight Javanese rowers, and bearing the flag of Holland at her stern reached us first.
A police officer, corpulent and full of importance, now came on board and handed the captain a sheet of paper on which he was desired to inscribe the name and destination of the vessel, from what port she had sailed, what burthen she carried, and other notices of the same kind.
This finished, the Javanese barks rowed swiftly along side; these small crafts are generally made of the trunk of a tree, neatly hollowed out; they are filled with fruit, fowls, eggs, apes, parrots, shells, and such like wares, with which the owner drives a profitable trade with the ships. He sits on a little bench in the midst of his merchandize with a short, broad oar in either hand; with this he propels his fragile vessel; which is often not more than an inch or two above the water’s edge. After we had exchanged our pure Spanish piastres, which is the coin they most prefer, for such things as we needed, the traffic with the sailors commenced.
Such old jackets, woolen shirts, caps and whatever other articles of clothing they could spare were bartered for eggs, cocoanuts, pine apples and other eatables. This accounts 187 for the singular garb of the Javanese boatmen,––striped shirts, woolen caps and duck trowsers are strangely mingled with portions of the oriental dress, and a sailor’s jacket with large brass buttons is considered quite ornamental. Next to clothing they prefer knives, scissors and articles of iron ware. In general the Javanese are pretty good judges of the value of these articles, and mostly contrive to make a more profitable traffic from their fruit and poultry than the European sailor with his stock of old clothes. In the evening it is often the case at this time of year that constant lightnings play round the horizon, illumining the picturesque shores of Java and Sumatra. Impenetrable darkness shrouds both earth and sea, and only by the light of the electric flash is the mariner shown how to keep off land, and with shortened sail holds on his way. On board of all vessels, on binnacle, masts and spars are hung lighted lanterns in order to avoid collision with each other, for in the thick darkness that envelopes all around, no object can be discerned at a distance of three yards. In the meantime the wind pipes shrilly through the shrouds, and lashes the waves into foam white as snow-wreaths. After a few hours all again is still, no breeze disturbs the ocean, the sails flap lazily against the mast, the waves subside to a glassy smoothness, and the rain gradually ceases as the dawn approaches. So pass the nights in this climate during the rainy season.
In the morning we found ourselves surrounded with a great number of vessels, the white sails of European ships covered the sea on all sides, contrasting strongly with the small coasters made of plaited hemp that darted gaily over 188 the blue waves, and fishing boats of all sorts and sizes were crossing our path or following in our wake. We were seemingly enclosed in a nest of small islands, and it was a mystery to conceive how it would be possible to find our way out of such a labyrinth. Only by the high volcanic hills, with their crowns of light smoke were we able to recognize the mainland of Java, whilst the flowery coast of Sumatra faded gradually from our view, until at length it was lost on the distant horizon. But the experienced eye of our captain discerned clearly the way that lay before us; for many years he had guided his ship in safety through these dangerous seas, and attentive to his duty and his chart, he disentangled her from among this knot of islands and we found ourselves once more in a free offing. Soon the Roads of Batavia were in sight, where more than fifty large ships and an incredible number of smaller ones were lying at anchor. The French, Dutch, Austrian and English flags greeted our arrival, one ship after another welcomed us to the roads with their thundering cannon, which was regularly answered by the guard ship constantly stationed here. At last our anchor was let down and fell rattling into the deep. But, different from Sumatra and the coast of Java we had left, nothing was to be seen at Batavia but a flat, low beach overgrown with bushes, behind which appeared some groups of green trees, and in the far distance rose a chain of blue hills from the summits of which clouds of smoke were issuing, that told of the many volcanic fires that are constantly burning in the Island of Java.
Home-Sickness of a Siberian.
Every Russian officer is permitted to choose their servants from among the soldiers, the number varying according to the rank; the under lieutenants having the right to one, the captains can demand three, and the field marshal twenty-four. These men, although freed from military duty, are still numbered as belonging to their several regiments, which they are obliged to enter, whenever their master pleases. They are better fed and clothed than their comrades, and upon the whole, live an easier and pleasanter life. Among these soldier-servants, I became acquainted with one, a Siberian, whose regiment was quartered in a small town in the government of Pultowa. He was a dragoon and servant to the Adjutant of the division, with whom I spent many hours in playing chess, and this man waited on us, bringing us tea, or whatever other refreshments we needed.